


Dearest Treasured

by Thousand_Ribbons (Meridians_of_Madness)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Frottage, M/M, Wing Kink, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Thousand_Ribbons
Summary: Crowley never fell, but his interest in his adorable subordinate is more demonic than not.-Written for the kink meme prompt foundhere.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 146





	Dearest Treasured

To be honest, angels weren't supposed to have favorites. After all, look what happened with poor Atlantis, and so far as Crowley knew, the Angel Islington was still buried underneath London, moldering and raging and missing out on all the fun.

No, it was best if angels remained impartial. They had to be clear-eyed and hard-headed in the execution of Her vision, unfaltering and swift to exercise Her will.

But.

Well.

Aziraphale was just so very _cute._

Everything about him was cute, from the way he chewed his lower lip when he was nervous to his dear hands fluttering like the wings he kept so still when he allowed them out at all. Crowley sometimes wondered whether he had been that way since the beginning or if those adorable twitches and flinches that he found so very irresistible were related to all that time Aziraphale spent on Earth.

Earth was a daft little place, if you asked Crowley, but Aziraphale was so very fond, always so eager to get back and to play with his favorite humans. He might have been Crowley's favorite, but there was no getting around the fact that it was definitely _play_.

“Oh, well, it's really not,” Aziraphale said anxiously. “That is, I know it's only a few miracles, but it makes such a difference to them, to their whole community-”

“I got your report, Aziraphale,” Crowley said with amusement. “I _do_ read them, you know.”

“Oh. Quite right,” Aziraphale said, looking down abashed. Honestly, Crowley could just _kill_ Gabriel for being so harsh before finally transferring him to Crowley's command. There was no call for it, not when Aziraphale was so very eager to please.

“Now don't take on like that,” Crowley said. “It's largely good work, very good.”

“Oh- it is?” Aziraphale sounded hopeful, and Crowley laughed, squeezing his shoulder, ignoring the way Aziraphale's breath caught and then carefully released.

“Yes, exemplary.” He winked. “I don't see why you shouldn't pop right back to Earth after we've gotten all the forms signed.”

“Really?”

Aziraphale's eyes lit up, making something old and unused and a little uncomfortable move in Crowley's chest. He pushed it down, because it would get in the way if he let it, and he didn't like anything that stood between him and his favorite angel.

“Yes, really Wouldn't want you to miss the Pleides meteor shower, would you? I saw that people were finally beginning to look up and notice them.”

“Yes, very much so,” Aziraphale said, and then a little more shyly, “They were one of yours, weren't they?”

“Oh, y'know, I did so many I can't really remember,” he said, and then he paused, leaning in.

“Let you in on a little secret though. The Pleides were some of my favorites. Not that we're meant to have favorites, you understand.”

“No, of course not,” Aziraphale said happily. “If I hurry, I can certainly get back before-”

“Then all we need to do is to see about correcting your paperwork."

Aziraphale blinked as Crowley snapped his fingers and removed the offending lines from Aziraphale's report. He considered them for a moment and laid them down on his desk.

“But you said-”

“ _I_ understand, Aziraphale,” Crowley said. “I do, but you know, the other archangels? They're not going to see it that way.”

Aziraphale's face fell as understanding set in.

“No...” he said, looking down. “I suppose not.”

“So we're just going to do a little creative accounting here, yes? Don't worry, I'll make sure it goes through. I just need you to … do some editing of what you've been up to. Let's say, take four from the miracles and add it to the smitings instead. That won't raise any eyebrows, not after I've approved it.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, so _polite,_ and Crowley grinned.

“That's a good angel,” he said. “All right, here you are. Fill it out quickly, and you can be on your way.”

Aziraphale reached hopefully for the papers across Crowley's desk, but Crowley held them in place with a finger, shaking his head.

“Come on, love, you know better, don't you? All the way across.”

Crowley watched eagerly as Aziraphale stretched himself over the desk, Crowley's clean workstation wide enough that he had to bend double to keep his feet on the ground.

“There's a pen for you, and remember to keep it tidy. Araviel gets so very shirty when they have to deal with blotches.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale said faintly, and as he put pen to paper, Crowley came around behind him, stroking a hand down his back to land familiarly on his rear.

“Oh, that's a beauty, you're so very beautiful,” Crowley murmured, leaning down to nuzzle the hair at the back of Aziraphale's neck.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said meekly, and Crowley made a pleased sound. Of course Aziraphale was beautiful. It had taken him ages to make Aziraphale say even _thank you_ to compliments and he was so proud of him.

As the pen scratched over the paper, Crowley flipped up Aziraphale's coat and took down his trousers, marveling a little at the earthly-made clothing. Other angels would simply magic their clothes from the ether, but not Aziraphale, who loved his velveteen and tweed.

Bared from his waist to his knees, Aziraphale was good enough to eat, the closest Crowley came to understanding the urge at all. He leaned down to take just the smallest nibble from Aziraphale's round hip, purring with pleasure when Aziraphale jumped.

“It's all right, precious,” he murmured. “Just mind the blotches, hmm?”

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Crowley unzipped his own fly, his cock already pleasantly hard and leaking at the tip. Aziraphale had left himself blank, another violation of Heavenly policy, but Crowley never enforced that one. It seemed too cruel somehow, to go demanding what others wore under their clothes, especially when he knew how enjoyable it was to place what he liked there.

There was no hole to penetrate, hadn't been for some time, but it hardly mattered when Aziraphale was so soft and plush, when pressing between his cheeks and digging his fingers into Aziraphale's hips was so, so good.

“Oh, you are lovely, Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed. “So perfect, just my favorite.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said again, and Crowley ruffled his hair, rocking harder against him.

“My absolute favorite,” he crooned, and then he reached into that space between and pulled out Aziraphale's wings.

They came loose with a ruffling swish, muffling Aziraphale's cry, and Crowley sighed with pleasure to see them. They were gleaming white, perfect if a little disordered, and Crowley ticked his fingers along the bristling pinions, fluffing the pinfeathers close to Aziraphale's clothed shoulders.

“Oh perfect, just perfect,” he said, as proud as if he had made Aziraphale himself. Maybe he had. He had been allowed to bear the demiurge a time or two. He thought he would have remembered making something as perfect Aziraphale, but things were so chaotic back then. Imagine letting Aziraphale slip between his fingers, dropped into the common muck of angels and ether.

Aziraphale sobbed as Crowley's fingers dug tight into him, as his thrusts grew hard, practically bouncing Aziraphale off his sharp hips.

“Almost done,” Crowley promised, “Almost done, and you can be on your way...”

Aziraphale's wings trembled, the long feathers caressing Crowley's face, and yes, that was what he wanted, Aziraphale surrounding him, shivering, making those tight little noises that Crowley played back for himself when he was alone in his office, yes-

He spent hot and wet between Aziraphale's thighs, pressing his cheeks tight together to receive him. Aziraphale's wings slithered away, hidden again, but that was appropriate. Crowley didn't like to think what he might do if someone else got to see them, if someone else ruffled their fingers through them...

“Oh!”

Crowley looked down guiltily to see that he had dug his nails tight into Aziraphale's rear, red pinpricks of blood rising up from the pale soft flesh.

“Oh, Aziraphale, I'm sorry, let me.”

He snapped his fingers, healing the tiny cuts, and then for good measure, he tugged Aziraphale's trousers back into place and pulled his coat down. He cleaned himself up with another snap, and then turned Aziraphale around, zipping and buttoning and belting until Aziraphale was all tidy to look at.

“There we are,” he said, chucking Aziraphale under the chin. “Right as rain, aren't you?”

“Yes, archangel,” Aziraphale said with a tremulous smile. His face was wet, his lips bitten to that precise shade that made Crowley sigh.

“There's a love,” he said. “Best get a move on now, don't want to miss the meteor shower, do you?”

“No, not at all,” he said, stumbling for the door, and Crowley watched him go, still a little lightheaded, unable to keep from grinning.

He went around the desk, looking over the corrected paperwork, chuckling a little at the blotches Aziraphale had left before lifting them away with a touch.

Honestly.

Aziraphale was lucky he was Crowley's favorite, that was for sure.


End file.
